A Northern Chorus
carpenter
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Clap hands for stained ideas,
Thereâs many a carpenter turning wheels,
Turning the wheels.
But will they carve out anything real?
Will I carve out a stained idea?
Oh look at the crowd, theyâre slumbering.
Three minutes is three minutes inâ¦
Time means nothing when youâre in embrace,
Move over your place is vacant and displaced,
Youâve left no trace.
So lets take this time, all weâve got is this time,
We are furious and bold,
The time keeps ticking, seems itâs moving counter clockwise,
I think Iâm getting old.
Move in close, feel your heart beating with the pulse.
Carpenterâs hands calloused , coarse, beating with the pulse